Becoming A Profiler
by Authora97
Summary: Megan Quinn, the new 27 year old agent at the BAU, is also Morgan Spencer, a ten year old girl who comes from our world, with knowledge of the show. She is determined to help her childhood heroes. It's better that these guys don't know that, though, right? (Part of the Spencer Saga!) (My way of coping with season 12)
1. The Journey

There was a ten year old girl living in the small town of Mount Pleasant, in the year 2007. She was different than the other kids in her class, and her brothers. Her classmates liked to play outside, in the fallen leaves and on the playground. They did their schoolwork, stayed polite in class, and made friends with each other.

This girl, Morgan Annie Spencer, liked other things.

Morgan was extremely shy. She never played with her classmates. She was quiet in class. Though she was smart, her teachers wondered if she would get answers wrong on purpose. Some teachers tried for more information, tried to get the young girl out of her shell, but no progress was made. Morgan just wouldn't talk to anyone.

She was fascinated by murder. In place of homework, she watched crime shows. She liked figuring out who the killer was before the actors did. It was an game her and her aunt played, to see who could find the profile first or catch the killer. It was wonderful, until her aunt moved out.

Morgan still honored that tradition. Every night, she would watch whatever was on air and try to spot the murderer. If she had already seen the episode, she would see what clues she had missed. She liked testing her skills, pushing them. Her best case took her only fifteen minutes to figure out. Morgan had called her aunt to tell her about it. They were both excited at Morgan's increasing skill.

Her parents did not share the enthusiasm. Her mother didn't like that her sweet daughter was obsessed with these dark tv shows. Her mother thought she should be watching Disney Channel, and wanting to play dress up with other girls. Her father wanted her to do her schoolwork, and to do with all the smarts he knew she had.

Morgan knew better. She was different. She wasn't smarter than her class, she was just older. Fourteen years older, to be exact. She had to play dumb for her own survival. She couldn't let anyone know she was a twenty-four year old woman inside of a ten year old girl. Morgan knew that she was a freak, and if she wasn't careful everyone else would know.

Though, she had a weakness. She couldn't resist an urge to help her friends. She didn't have any at school, and her brothers were too young, but she had the members of the BAU.

Soon, they would have her.

==BOP==

 _Three years later_

These had been some tough years for me. It wasn't supposed to come easy, I would never ask it to be. All of my hard work would pay off, and it would be _my_ hard work. It wouldn't be because my family called in favors.

For the past ten years, I'd been working towards this. It started with four years at Harvard, earning my Juris Doctor, a degree in psychology, and full honors. It'd been weird to get my degrees at twenty-one, but I was proud of it. After I graduated, I took the degree Home to hang it up on my wall.

There were four years spent in the crime lab in Vegas. They'd been excellent years, and my precinct did well. We solved a lot of cases, until I parted ways for this brief sabbatical.

Course, those were three years ago, and IT two different dimensions. Luckily for me, Megan Quinn has that entire thing on her background.

According to my file, I had graduated from Harvard with top marks in my class. There was four years of work in the Las Vegas police department. All in all, not to different from what actually happened. Man, sometimes I have the best luck!

The only real difference was that Megan Quinn actually looked like a twenty-seven year old. She had my amber eyes, that in the right light just was soft brown. They were slightly almond shaped this go around, from squinting too long no doubt. I might need glasses in a few years for her. Her hair was bright orange, like fallen leaves. There was a bit of a cleft in her chin, I think it added a bit of spice to her.

This was taking awhile though. They told me some people worked ten years in the Bureau before reaching the BAU, I wanted to get there a little _faster_. Three years at the Academy, working until I could run this course backwards.

I'm not exactly doing it backwards right now, just faster than my fellow trainees.

There had been a lot of physical tests for the FBI, which annoyed me to no end. On one hand, it kept me fit. I kinda liked who I was looking at the mirror, as Megan Quinn had shed any sort of baby fat I'd had at ten. On another, I had been doing it for _three years!_ Can any of you imagine doing PE for three years? It was exhausting!

There was a mile of running, coupled with obstacle courses and training dummies. Nothing as messy as crawling through mud, but there was a rope swing that I passed. The last stretch was carrying a dummy over a climbing wall. It had been a challenge for the others, but I fought with Kim Possible and Ron Stoppable. You won't believe how many times we had to carry Ron away from a pending explosion. (It made me laugh the first time I saw in on the FBI training course, my fellow cadets giving me odd looks).

...but as I made it past the last stretch of the training course, all of it was worth this.

I dubbed the latest 'Ron Stoppable' dummy on the dirt, making sure he would be alright. What? The point of this was to make sure our fellow agents or civilians would be safe, so it was important not to just callously throw them to the ground!

Once I made it past the finish line, I allowed myself to relax with a job well done. Panting and desperate for a shower, I walked over to my backpack. The whole course was just a giant circle around the training base. The finish line had been the starting line some an hour ago.

My instructor, Agent Charles Rettig, was watching on the hill overhead. He had been paying closer attention to me in recent weeks. It hadn't taken much brainpower to figure out why. I was (hopefully) done with training soon. Graduation day was in two weeks. It was all the other cadets talked about after training. It was no secret that I was the star pupil in this class.

The training helped me get used to Megan Quinn's form. In previous experience, going from a kid to a young woman had been jarring. I would constantly stumble around, tripping on my longer legs or bumping into everything. FBI training seemed to get me out of that funk, for the most part.

After gulping down a good portion of my water, I pulled out a granola bar. You laugh, but my granola bar had blueberries in it! _Ha!_ Made you jealous!

I looked up at Agent Rettig, knowing he would already be looking at me. To my surprise he was standing with Agent Aaron Hotchner and Agent Derek Morgan.

More importantly, all three were looking at me.

==BAP==

After a warm shower, and dressing in another training uniform, I went back to the female dorm to get a little rest. The other cadets would be another hour before finishing up, or rather, it would be another hour until the last cadet finished up.

I had made it two steps into the sleeping quarters before I noticed the two smartly dressed agents. My shoulders tensed at the supposedly unknown men, relaxing slightly at their suits. I may be young, but all these classes on behavioral analysis taught you what cues people looked for.

"Agent Quinn?" Aaron began. I nodded briefly, telling him it was alright to speak. "I'm SSA Aaron Hotchner of the Behavior Analysis Unit. This is SSA Derek Morgan."

The other man gave a small nod. _'Gideon isn't with them, and Derek is dressed like a stereotypical FBI agent. Still in pre-show time. I wonder if they even have Garcia on the team yet.'_

"Hello." I greeted hesitantly. Though curious. "What's...What's the BAU doing in my room?"

Agent Derek looked at me with pure professionalism. I know I was supposed to call him Agent Morgan, but Morgan is my name so it felt awkward on my tongue.

Agent Hotchner spoke up. "We asked Agent Rettig for some advice. We're hiring some new agents to the BAU, and a spot opened up. Your instructor immediately pointed us your direction."

His words clicked together in my head. Was he...he couldn't mean what I think he means. _'Now stay calm, Quinn. You can freak out_ later _.'_

"And...that means?"

"If you want, when you graduate, we'd be happy to welcome to the Behavioral Analysis Unit."

 **==BAP==**

 **AN: Here's my attempt at a CM fic. I'm really excited about this, since I've been watching the show since '06. I think it'd also be a good idea to get this thing started out since Thomas left, Shemar left, and I'm worried about the fate of MGF.. This story IS connected to the Travelerverse, and has the youngest Morgan to my written date.**

 **(For those of you that were wondering, yes I named Morgan Spencer after my boys! Gotta show some respect where it's due!)**


	2. Meeting The Team

On my first official day in the BAU, I showed up bright and early. A real hour before I think I was supposed to. I think I needed the time to come to terms with all of this.

It'd been a wild couple of days! I graduated top of my class, much to Agent Rettig's amusement. All of yesterday had been spent on paperwork, nothing too exciting there. I was given my own badge today!

I ended up coming early. There were a few people milling about when I walked into the office. It was startling to see the bullpens so empty. No one was walking around, moving from desk to desk or putting files away. Derek wasn't at his desk, joking with Reid from across the room. Prentiss wasn't walking from her desk to JJ's office

It felt...like a photo of a friend, but before they were your friend.

It wasn't a nice feeling.

Yet, there was hope in my chest when I realized I'd get to see it slowly come alive each day.

With some time to kill, and a set of nerves, I set to making my desk a bit more welcoming. I didn't have any photos to put up, not of anything I _could_ hang. Most were of me in cartoons, and oh yeah _I had a different face_. I'd make some memories here, though that'll take time.

Maybe I could get one of those cute pen holders? I'd have to go shopping later, if there was time. I did need some food for my apartment, at least enough for the week. My apartment could be compared to a shoebox. It was only for one person so I could adjust.

Which was hilarious to think about. I came from a big family. Every food-run was large enough to feed a village, and cost an arm. It was a pleasant change to only shop for one. Better yet, one who would only be there less than half the time.

In my musings, I hadn't noticed a man walk into the office.

"Hello." The man gave a small wave, before his hand clasped the strap of his bag again. "Are you Megan Quinn? They said...you were starting today."

"Oh!" I gasped, surprised at how I hadn't noticed him coming in. "S-so sorry! I didn't see you...there. Yes! I'm Megan." I smiled politely at him. Though I knew most people would shake hands at meeting a new coworkers, I had never been an outgoing person.

"It's okay." He gave a polite smile back. "I'm your new coworker, Doctor Spencer Reid."

Just like that, I fell in love with Spencer Reid all over again.

==BAP==

The next few minutes went on in relative quiet. People filed into the office, already working out their various files and things before going to their case work.

To my delight, JJ was walking up to the bullpen with a folder. She made eye contact with me, then turned herself my way.

The blonde agent held the file out to me. I took it. "Nice to meet you, Agent Quinn. I'm Jareau, JJ if you like. I'm the unit liaison. My specialty is untangling bureaucratic knots. You'll probably be talking to me a lot. My door's always open, mostly because I'm never in my office, so just call me on my cell, okay?" I nodded. "We'll talk." She walked off to Hotch's office.

I got to work on the paperwork. Just the last few pages before I could go out on an official mission. It felt _awesome._

In between some of the pages, I started to have some awkward small talk with Reid. _I_ was having _small talk_ with _Doctor Spencer Reid_. I may be twenty-seven, but I was also ten and this was blowing my ten year old mind.

It wasn't too long before Derek Morgan walked up.

"Hey, newbie." He called, before coming to lean against my desk.

I didn't even turn my head towards him, more worried about finishing the last of my paperwork. "Hey oldie." My cheeks suddenly went red. I turned to Derek, gasping in shock at my own snark. "Oh god I said that outloud, didn't I? I'm so sorry!" My hands cupped over my mouth.

"Nah, I get it. I see how it is." Derek actually grinned at me, laughing with it. It was jarring to see him out of his relaxed gray shirt and jeans, instead wearing this trussed up monkey suit. "It's good to have a backbone in a job like this."

I felt myself wanting to blush at the praise, instead I blushed at the embarrassment.

"I need to get this paperwork to JJ." I excused myself.

In an embarrassed hurry, I made my way towards JJ's office.

Except, I never made it past Aaron Hotchner.

He just suddenly appeared in front of me. It startled me so much I jumped back

' _You're a 27 year old woman, not a ten year old child. Buck up!'_ I scolded myself.

"We're needed at at Blue Ridge." Hotch stated to the bullpen. He eyed Derek and Spencer. "There's been another murder." He glanced down to me, staring for a long while before walking off.

My stomach swooped. My first official case with the BAU... _'Okay._ Maybe _be a ten year old for another minute.'_

==BAP==

Hours later, after we had seen the crime scene as well as most of the evidence, we came back to Quantico to go over what we learned.

It wasn't long before Spencer found the trail we needed. Course, this meant calling Penelope Garcia.

Later, when she had given us the much needed information, I walked up to her.

"It's a _cute_ nickname." Was my soft comment, not wanting to overstep any bounds.

Penelope Garcia looked up at me in surprise. "Oh, hi! Sorry. You came out of nowhere!" She smiled warmly-I doubt Penelope knew how have an unfriendly greeting. "I'm sorry, what was your name again?"

"Megan Quinn." I introduced myself. "Sorry about the scare. I was just saying that there are _worse_ names than _'baby girl'_."

"Oh I know. It was cute, just." She bit her painted pink lip. "He was there when I was recruited." Penelope explained. She had a quirky grin. "I had a bit of work done, but I didn't know it was enough not to be recognized."

"What'd you look like before?" I asked, hoping that wasn't rude. "Different hairstyle?"

Garcia laughed embarrassedly. "I mean...it was dyed...black. And my eyeshadow was a lot...darker than it is now."

"Dark colors on you?" I couldn't help but laugh. Was Penelope Garcia, Queen of all things Pink and Sparkly, a _goth_? That image couldn't come up in my brain. It was too _weird_. "I'm sorry. I can't even picture it. You just look...more in your natural state with the colors."

"Yeah, I was going through...some stuff." The technical analyst admitted.

"Oh. That's okay." I assured, with a wave of my mind. "Believe me I get it, yeah. In my junior year of high school, I wore a leather jacket. Full on _'biker'_ getup."

"No way!" Penelope laughed. "Why did you stop? You could rock that!"

"Not a chance! There were combat boots too. Those things make my feet _stink_!" I laughed, remembering myself at sixteen.

I was in my third year at Harvard, I was trying out a new style. It had given Elle a near heart attack to see me in clothes that didn't match. She ended up changing the whole thing after twenty-four hours. In my opinion, the brown jacket and combat boots were better with a blue plaid shirt.

(Okay it was hideous. I have no fashion sense)

"Quinn come on, we're going after Matloff!" Derek suddenly shouted. He, and Hotch, were making their way to the elevator.

I braced myself, giving Penelope a half reassuring smile before going after the boys.

' _Holy shit I just talked clothes with Penelope Garcia. Now I'm chasing Brian Matloff with Derek Morgan and Aaron Hotchner. How great is this day!'_

 **==BAP==**

 **AN: I'm sorry this took forever. My Spencer was thrown in jail, and I couldn't find mental stability until he got out and then the Season 12 finale happened and I'm worried about** _ **everything**_ **now cause I have to wait until** _ **September**_ **for things.**

 **Plus, I had college classes in March and April, so that took up a lot of time. I published a lot more stories online, if you're bored you can give them a try. I'm probably gonna publish more later.**

 **There was a hack on my laptop, and they probably got my information. So I had to get a lot of passwords changed** _ **and**_ **a get new debit card. It's looking like I'm going to get a new bank account all together (as we don't know just how much the hackers got). Thankfully I don't need to buy a new laptop. There's not much on my laptop (it's only eight months old) except my iTunes and the online account where I keep all my writings, the rest is on a flash drive or can be easily replaced. Despite that, I've had two panic attacks today, plus crying, so I'm actually proud of myself for managing to finish this at all!**

 **And my day started out so lovely too...I saw Guardians of the Galaxy 2** _ **(a planet named**_ **Ego** _ **was the bad guy and everyone is**_ **so shocked** _ **. Plus Howard the Fucking Duck came back, I loved that!**_ **).**

 **Anyway. Hope everyone enjoyed this. It's basically filler, I know. I'm still working on how I want this story written, cause I want it done** _ **right**_ **. The next chapter is going to be** _ **Extreme Aggressor**_ **, so don't expect a quick update. Sorry.**

 **Thanks to BlueJae3, PumpkinSpiceAndEverythingNice, superfaraway, Grover Girl 8, and Helidaes for favoriting**

 **Thanks to Anmak, fishtrek, Lukaibao7882, BlueJae3, superfaraway, Drewyd, and mlr96 for following**


	3. Extreme Aggressor

' _In any given moment we have two options: to step forward into growth or step back into safety.' Abraham Maslow.'_

Funny that even though I had just left the Academy, I was going back. They had asked Reid and I to go collect Gideon. He had started teaching a seminar there after I graduated. It was a bit sad that we'd break up the class after today.

The woman at the front directed us towards the lecture hall.

The case had been given to us this morning. They also gave the order to retrieve Gideon from his sabbatical.

Hotch and Derek went to his office to wait. They sent Reid and I to get him.

Outside the lecture hall, I caught sight of Jason Gideon.

I pushed the door open, interrupting the end of his lecture. We caught Gideon's eyes. Reid held up the case file, tapping the side.

The head profiler bowed his head in understanding. He didn't like it, but he understood. "Excuse me." Gideon spoke politely to the class.

He followed us out.

==BAP==

"They're calling him the Seattle Strangler. Four victims in four months." Reid reported. "He keeps 'em alive seven days."

"The handle serves as a crank." I explained, as Reid pulled up another picture.

"Allowing him to control the rate of suffocation." Gideon reasoned.

"To prolong it?" Reid asked.

"To enjoy it." Gideon corrected, kindly. "Seattle's hit a wall?"

"Yes. There's no physical evidence, or any tangible leads." I answered.

"And another girl is missing." Gideon nodded, taking the extended file from Reid. "I looked the case file over. I'll get some thoughts to you ASAP."

He went into his office, finding Hotch and Derek waiting.

"You're gonna be with us in Seattle ASAP." Hotch reported.

Gideon stared at him for a moment.

Derek held the photo out to him. "Twenty-two year old Heather Woodland." Gideon took the outstretched photo.

"Before she left for lunch, she downloaded an email with a time-delayed virus attached." Hotch explained. "The killer's virus wiped her hard drive and left this on the screen." He gave Gideon another photo.

The team and I watched Agent Gideon walk over to a picture he had on his wall.

"' _For heaven's sake, catch me before I kill more. I cannot control myself.'"_ He read off.

"He doesn't keep them for more than seven days. That means we have less than thirty-six hours to find her." I went into further detail.

"They want you back in the saddle. You ready?" Derek asked, concerned for his coworker.

"Looks like medical leave's over, boss." Reid added.

"They sure they want me?" Gideon asked.

Hotch let out a small smile. "The order came from the director."

Gideon let out a short breath, before squaring his shoulders. "Well, we'd better get started."

==BAP==

The plane had been up in the air for twenty minutes when we began discussing the case.

"His first victim was twenty-six year old Melissa Kirsh. Stab wounds, strangulation-" Reid explained.

"Wait, wait. Backup. Backup." Derek interrupted. "He stabbed her...and then strangled her to finish her off?"

"Other way around." Gideon corrected. He turned to Reid. "Why do you think he started using the belt with the second murder?"

"Bare-handed strangulation isn't as easy as most people think." I explained. "He tried, thought it was taking too long-"

"So he stabbed her instead." Derek finished.

"And realized it would be hours cleaning up the blood." Hotch added.

"Next time, our boy's got a method- the belt." Derek nodded.

"He's learning, perfecting his scenario." Gideon's eyebrows creased in thought. "Becoming a better killer."

==BAP==

The plane landed not long after. A black car drove us to the Seattle FBI office. We put our bags through security. Mine came through, so I lifted my go-bag out. I had packed it with long sleeved blue or white shirts, a dark blue jacket for the cold, and long suit pants. Simply outfits that were still professional.

My current outfit was a light gray long sleeved blouse, with black long pants and a pair of black boots. My gun was holstered on my hip, blending in with the pants.

Gideon was leading the pack of boys, as they dragged their luggage off the converter belt.

Derek huffed. He turned to Reid. "He never stands with his back to a window. When I was between him and a doorway, he asked me to _move_."

"That's hyper vigilance. It's not uncommon in post traumatic stress disorder." Reid reasoned.

"Just how much disorder are we talking about?" Derek countered.

"Morgan, it's been six months." Hotch interjected. "Everything's okay."

I elbowed the agent lightly. "It'll be fine. Just you wait."

The dark skinned agent huffed at me.

The three of us followed Hotch inside the bull pen.

"This is Special Agent Gideon, Special Agent Morgan, our expert on obsessional crimes, Special Agent Reid." Hotch introduced.

"Dr. Reid." Gideon interjected.

Hotch rolled with it. "Dr. Reid, our expert on...well, everything. This is Special Agent Megan Quinn-" I smiled politely at the large group "-who's making up to be impressive expert on sex offender cases. And after two years busting my butt in this office, I hope you all remember me."

The agents laughed before going about their business.

"He's willing to travel with the body." Gideon observed, watching the giant map they gave me.

"Then he drives a vehicle capable of concealing one." Hotch noted.

"One in seven point four drivers in Seattle owns an SUV." Reid reported

"Explorer with tinted windows." Derek stated.

"Explorers rate higher with women." I countered.

"But how do we know it's his car? Ted Bundy drove a VW Bug." Derek argued.

"What about a Jeep Cherokee?" Hotch asked.

I shook my head. "That's more _masculine_."

"We all know how an unsub feels about asserting his masculinity." Gideon commented.

Hotch turned to the head of this division. I saw one of them holding one of the files for the case. When he saw my interest, he passed it over to me. "When did the Bureau become involved in the case?"

"After the fourth body. He dumped that one out of state." The asian agent answered.

"On purpose." Hotch reasoned.

"If so, knowledge of law enforcement does suggest a criminal record." Reid styated.

"Or that he watches television." Derek looked down at the file for Kirsh in my hand. "May I?" I nodded, tilting the file so he could read it over with me.

"So you wanna see our suspect list?" The head agent asked.

"No, we won't look at a suspect list until after we come up with a profile. It keeps our perspective unbiased." Hotch explained.

"When do we sit down with your task force?" Gideon asked.

"Four o'clock." An agent answered.

"An accurate profile by four o'clock today?" Derek asked, surprised.

"That's not a problem." Gideon stated.

Derek gave a huff but didn't roll his eyes.

"Agent Gideon, where would you like to start?" Hotch asked, always the professional

"Let's start at the site of the last murder." Gideon tapped the photo.

==BAP==

"So that's Gideon? _The_ Gideon." The officer on scene asked, giddy. I nodded. His joy was a big infectious, I felt a smile bloom across my face before I could stop it. "The one who caught that guy, Adrian Baal, in Boston."

"Yep. That's him." Derek answered, coming up at our side. "But catching him cost us six agents."

It brought down the mood, just a bit.

"Twenty-two-year-old Anne Cushing was found right here. Nails clipped just like the others. He wants them to fight back." Derek reported to the as of yet silent Gideon.

"But not enough to hurt him." Gideon added on. "And he left the belt around her neck. He's probably in his early twenties."

"What's your reasoning?" Derek asked.

"Youthful arrogance." Gideon stated.

"He clothed the body before dumping it." Derek pointed out.

Gideon stared down where Cushing had been found. "That's a sign of remorse."

"It's not consistent." I voiced. "Look at where we are. This is what he thinks of women."

"They're disposable."

"So why dress the body out of remorse, but then dumping her with the trash?"

==BAP==

The five of us converged back at headquarters.

"Okay, then how about the fact that on one hand, we have paranoid psychosis...but the autopsy protocol says what?" Derek pointed to Reid.

"Adhesive residue shows he put layer after layer of duct tape over his victim's eyes." Reid reported.

"He knows he wants to kill them, but he still covers their eyes." Derek continued. "He doesn't want 'em looking at him, apparently. Okay, but then he takes the body and dumps it right out in the open, murder weapon nearby."

"Not the MO of a paranoid convinced he's being watched or surveilled." Reid agreed.

I fell back in my hair, toying with my loose hair.

"Paranoid psychosis, but behavior that's not paranoid." Derek argued.

"Maybe he's schizophrenic." Hotch offered.

"Or _maybe_ we don't have enough for a complete profile."

Hotch gave him that small eyebrow lift. The one he does when you are on the edge of pushing Hotch's limit. "We need to narrow down our list of suspects."

"We're looking at less than twelve hours to find this woman." Derek ranted.

"We don't know exactly what-"

"Hotch we don't know anything!"

"All right, enough." Gideon spoke. It silenced the room. "Hotch, tell them we're ready."

Finished, he left the room.

"We're ready?" Derek repeated, clearly believing the opposite. He looked to us. "Reid, Megan. You're good with this?"

We nodded.

Derek was gobsmacked. It was a good look on him. "We've got a woman who's only got a few hours left to live, an incomplete profile, and a unit chief on the verge of a nervous breakdown."

I handed Gideon a file when he came back. He took it. "They don't call them nervous breakdowns anymore." He went back out.

Oh now Derek was annoyed.

"It's called a major depressive episode." Reid finished for Gideon.

Derek gave him a flat stare. "I know, Reid."

==BAP==

Gideon had delivered the profile earlier. All in all, a perfect display.

Now we had to make a plan for taking in Slessman.

But there was no sign of Agent Elle Greenaway. I'm not sure what's more distressing to me. The growing urgency of this case, or the impact this would have on future cases.

A part of me realized I could just be paranoid. Maybe Elle was waiting in the back somewhere, maybe she was sick today. There was just this gut instinct that she wasn't here. It built up in my chest. It kept pushing me to step in, use my knowledge in her place.

It was _such_ a bad idea.

But, I was young. I was barely twenty-seven. Everyone makes _really_ bad decisions at that age. At least the ones that didn't really age.

Stepping into the bullpen, I braced myself for the new obstacle.

" _I_...have an idea." I offered.

The agents turned to me.

==BAP==

Just like in the show, they liked the idea.

I was decked out in the dark blue jacket. After one check to make sure the van full of backup was there, I walked up to Slessman's grandma's house.

Briskly knocking on the door, there was barely a wait before she opened it. She watched me kindly, and cautiously.

I braced myself. "Hi!" It'd been awhile since I watched this episode, yet the line felt as familiar on my tongue as if I'd been saying it for ages. "I'm _really_ sorry to bother you. I'm house-sitting down the street, and when I got back, the door was wide open, and the lights weren't working. I feel like such an idiot asking this, but is there someone who might be able to take a look inside with me?"

The woman immediately turned to the stairs. "Richard. Richard, get down here!"

After Slessman came down the stairs, I showed him towards the empty house we'd picked out.

"Are you sure you locked it?" Slessman asked with the air of someone who had something _so_ much better to do.

"Yeah." I answered.

He sighed. He pushed the door open,

"Hello?" He walked deeper into the house. I stayed close behind him. My hand was holding onto the gun in my pocket. "Hello!"

At that cue, the other agents stepped out.

' _I'll call this an unqualified success.'_

==BAP==

The men of my team met back up at the house. I made my way back to the house. The rest of Slessman's family were inside the kitchen, with Reid and Gideon blocking the way.

"There's no sign of the girl here. We can arrest him with probable cause, but we won't be able to hold him." Reid explained. "Slessman's been at the top of the suspect list."

"Is that the mother?" Gideon asked.

I stepped in. "Grandmother. The mother died in a fire when he was thirteen."

"Probably not the only fire in his childhood." Gideon noted under his breath.

"Before his Son of Sam murders, David Berkowitz set a multitude of fires." Reid commented.

"Exactly how much is a multitude?" Derek asked, walking up to us.

"According to his diary, one thousand four hundred and-" Reid answered.

"Eighty-eight." I finished. This will sound morbid, but I read a lot of BAU cases at the academy for fun. It was harder getting those documents back Home, where I was 10 and the only computer belonged to my parents.

"Luring him out was your idea, right? Quinn?" Gideon asked.

"Megan. I don't send a SWAT team into a house with children." There was a part of me chuffed that Gideon asked for my name.

"Hotch says you scored highest in your classes at the Academy. You're skilled towards sex cases. What can you tell us?" Gideon asked.

"The last four murders show he's an anger-excitation rapist. He'll keep a victim for a couple of days. He'll record or videotape them so that he can continue reliving the fantasy." I reported.

"You okay with Hotch being in on the interview?" Gideon asked.

"I'd like him to lead, actually." The idea of interviewing Slessman myself was foreboding. It would be better if a man led the interview anyway, with Slessman's arrangement with Vogel.

"Fine. But hold off. Slessman's done time, and he knows the process. And all you will get now is a demand for a lawyer." Gideon instructive. He walked off to the door. "Hotch, let's check the garage, then show me what you got."

I let out a breath I hadn't known I was holding in.

"Next time, show a little leg." Derek advised with a teasing wink.

Despite my best intentions, a blush grew on my face. "The only time you're gonna see a little leg from me is when I'm about to kick your ass."

"I still teach hand-to-hand over at Quantico if you need a little brush-up training." Derek offered.

"I'm a black belt in karate, Derek." "I'd watch your mouth before I whip you with it."

"Don't tempt me." Derek winked.

==BAP==

Derek went to Slessman's bedroom. I found the stairway. Carefully, I made my way up.

Gideon, Hotch and Reid were there already. If I didn't know better, I'd say they were waiting on me.

Reid was staring intently at the Go board.

"What kind of game is it?" I asked.

"In China, it's called wei-chi. Here we call it ' _Go'_. It's considered to be the most difficult board game ever conceived." Reid explained.

"Chairman Mao required his generals to learn it." Gideon smirked, a bright twinkle in his eye.

"It also looks like he's playing himself." Reid added.

"How can you tell?" I asked.

He spun the board. It's been placed on a rotator.

"This might provide an advantage, actually." Reid went on. "Go is considered to be a particularly psychologically revealing game. There are profiles for every player- the conservative point Counter, the Aggressor, the Finesser."

"What kind of player is Slessman?" Hotch cut off Reid before Reid explained the rules. You laugh, but I have no doubt he would have started.

The genius stared at the board for a long moment before answering "Extreme Aggressor."

==BAP==

The team went downstairs to Slessman's room.

"Okay, here we go." Derek typed in the last few commands. The screen changed to black, filling up with code before showing the password box and the number box.

"What's the number six at the bottom of the screen?" I asked.

"Number of password attempts before the program wipes the hard drive." Derek answered.

"There could be an email, or a journal in the computer, something that tells us where Heather is. Do you think you can break in?" I asked.

"In six tries?" Derek asked, skeptical.

" _Try again. Fail again. Fail better._ " Gideon advised.

Reid turned to us. "Samuel Beckett."

" _Try not. Do or do not_." Derek countered.

"Yoda." Reid told Gideon.

I half smiled at it. "Maybe you could call Garcia?"

"What, you're not going to do it?"

"No. She's _way_ more friendly with _you_."

Derek grinned.

"I wanna talk to him." Gideon said seemingly out of nowhere.

==BAP==

"A second unsub." I repeated.

We'd been driven back to the Seattle headquarters. Gideon was explaining the results from his interview to me.

"Not unusual. Remember Lawrence Bittaker and Roy Norris?" Gideon explained as we made our way down the stairs.

"1979. They outfitted a van to rape and murder girls in California." I answered. They'd been a test question on my last exam.

"We're looking for someone who fits a similar relationship?" Hotch asked Gideon.

"They're not equals. Slessman's smart, but he is a submissive personality." Gideon explained.

"So number two is the dominant." I reasoned.

"Authoritative, arrogant." Gideon listed.

"Probably not as smart as Slessman." Hotch added.

"He's like the schoolyard bully recruiting a good underling- he'll be protective of Richard. He'll make him feel like he owes him." Gideon explained further.

"If Richard's been up in the attic fantasizing about being an extreme aggressor, this guy showed him how to do it." Hotch decided.

"He helped him take the first step." Gideon added.

"Could we think interview him with this as pressure?" I asked.

"No, no. We need leverage. A name." Gideon

"Checking the suspect list would take too long." I reasoned.

Gideon shook his head, concentration etched on his face. "There's gotta be a faster way."

"There is." Hotch looked over towards the grandmother.

After a few minutes, he had a mug of tea for her. Gideon and I waited in a room on the side, listening in from the security cameras.

"Here. This might be a little hot." Hotch handed the elderly woman the mug. "Mrs Slessman, I don't think we've got the right guy. I think the person we're looking for might be a friend of Richard's."

"Richard never had many friends." Mrs Slessman murmured.

"You sure? There's gotta be someone." Hotch asked.

"Well, there was...there was this one young man. I think his name was Charlie." Mrs Slessman answered after a pause.

"Cross-reference Charlie for the second unsub." Gideon instructed.

I quickly did so. "Charlie is probably Charles Linder. He was Slessman's cellmate and...received a dishonorable discharge from the military."

"He's bigger, tougher. He could have protected Richard in prison." Gideon was liking the sound of this. "Where were they incarcerated?"

"Cascadia. Less than a mile from here." I answered without looking. I'd learned a lot of smaller facts about the first season before coming here. I knew them practically as well as I knew my own social security.

"Let's go." Gideon ordered.

==BAP==

"Anyone who can tell us more about Slessman?" Gideon asked the head of the prison.

Hotch called me as we walked off the elevator. I flipped my phone open. "What'd'ya got Hotch?"

" _We found Linder's name on a police report."_ Hotch explained.

"Gideon won't like this, will he?"

" _No he won't. It was a car accident two months ago. Linder was DOA."_

"Yeah he won't like that." Hotch hung up. I walked up to Gideon as the other man walked off. "That was Hotch. Linder's name came up on a police report."

"And?"

"He's dead. Car accident, two months ago. Linder is dead." I explained.

Gideon's expression was one of deep thought. He didn't know what I did, that the only suspect left was Vogel.

We met up with him on our way out.

"Too bad you guys came here for nothing. I mean, talk about scum." Vogel snorted. "I can't remember how many times I put Linder in solitary for causing trouble with us. You'd think the inmates would try to stay on our good side, right? Especially since half our job is protecting them from each other."

Gideon's attention peaked. "You protect them?"

"If you're a little white guy? Especially in a prison like this." Vogel admitted.

"Linder's 6'4". You talking about Slessman?" Gideon asked.

Vogel shrugged, half hearted. "Oh, yeah."

"Thanks for your help." Gideon smiled, in a way I would call _knowingly._

==BAP==

"He's befriended of Richard. He protected him. He will feel like he owes him." Gideon ranted.

"He fits the profile. And did you see them?" I asked.

"The keys." Gideon agreed.

We climbed in the car. Not long after, we saw his orange car driving off.

"Hotch, I've just found your leverage. His name is Timothy Vogel." Gideon reported. He clapped his phone shut as I drove after the car.

==BAP==

I'd been following the other guard for twenty minutes. It was shortly after we turned down a woodsy road that I spoke up.

"This is wrong. We gotta him pull over. I can feel it." I reported.

"You wanna stop him, you give me a reason." Gideon stated.

"His behavior." I answered. "When we left him, he was nervous and unsettled. Now he's stopping at every stop sign, using his blinker at every turn, and slowing at yellow lights. This is _not_ someone who is rushing to kill and dump a body."

"Okay. Do it." Gideon decided.

I flipped on the lights.

The other guard immediately pulled over to the side of the road. I parked our rental, stepping out and pulling my weapon. Gideon was beside me.

"FBI. Put your hands up where we can see them!" The prison guard followed my instruction. "Put your hands through the window now!"

He did so.

"All right, with your left hand I want you to open the car door from the outside." I ordered. "Get out!"

He came out of Vogel's car. He fell to the gravel, squinting up at us.

"It's not him!"

"Where is he? Where is he?" Gideon demanded.

"Where's Vogel?" I clarified.

"I don't know!" The guard pleaded.

"What are you doin' driving his car?!" Gideon snapped.

"He came up to me in the garage after our shift ended. He asked if he could borrow my truck." The guard explained, panicked.

"What kind of truck?" Gideon barked.

"He's dumping the body." I told Gideon.

What's the make? What's the make?!" Gideon growled.

"Dodge! Dodge Dakota!" The guard shouted.

Gideon grunted in irritation. He marched to the car, myself following.

We were barely back in city limits when Derek called. I was driving towards the Bureau, but on a route that would match up with the shipyard if I made the correct turn.

"What is it, Morgan?" Gideon answered.

His phone must have been turned up, because I heard Derek loud and clear. " _Gideon, Heather's alive."_

I turned to Gideon. "How do you know?" Gideon asked.

"' _Cause we're watching her right now."_

Gideon hung up. He immediately dialed Hotch. "Hotch, he's gonna kill her. He's heading there now. We need a location."

" _I don't have enough time to get it out of him."_ Hotch excused.

"Find something, Hotch, or that girl is dead." Gideon ordered.

Hotch called a few minutes later, telling us to go to the shipyard. I took the correct turn just in time.

==BAP==

I parked the rental next to a Dodge Dakota. Gideon lead the way to the docks, pulling out his weapon as we approached the board.

I pulled my phone out, calling Derek.

"We're at the shipyard. Gideon.'s making his way to the boat now." I reported.

" _No, Megan, you gotta call him back. Vogel is on that boat!"_

"Then all the more reason to go in now."

" _Listen to me. You need to wait for backup."_

"If we wait, then Heather is dead."

" _And if we had waited in Boston-"_

"There's no time!" I snapped.

There was a woman's scream.

 _Heather_.

I clapped my phone shut, stuffing it in my pocket. Running towards the scream, I kept cover behind some barrels.

"Stop! Stop!" Gideon ordered.

"Get back! I'll shoot her." Vogel shouted. His gun was pressed at her temple.

"I wouldn't. If I were you, I'd aim the gun at me. You shoot the girl, you got nothing." Gideon reminded.

"Get...back!" Vogel snarled.

"Shoot me instead. Come on. What, are you a lousy shot?" Gideon taunted. "Fifty feet away. You got a perfect shot. Shoot me."

"You think I'm stupid?" Vogel hissed.

"I think you're an absolute moron." Gideon answered smoothly. "I know all about ya, Tim. You're at the gym five times a week. You drive a flashy car, you stink of cologne, and you can't get it up. Not even Viagra's workin' for ya. You know what that tells me? That tells me you are hopelessly compensating, and it's not just in your head. It is physical. What did the girls call you in high school? What'd they come up with when you fumbled your way into some girl's pants, and she started laughing when she got a good look at just how little you had to offer?"

"Shut up!" Vogel shouted.

"Short stack? Very little Vogel?" Gideon shook his head. "I got it! Tiny Tim."

Vogel moves his gun. I fired two shots at him. I thought I heard more, possible from Vogel or Gideon. My shots hit Vogel's shoulder and chest. He fell back, letting Heather go. She let out blood curdling screams as she hit the dock.

 _Had I just killed him?_ It wouldn't be my first kill by any means. It was just unsettling.

Seeing Gideon leaning against a railing, I remembered the other shots. I ran over to him. "Gideon! Are you alright?"

He beamed a smile up at me. "I'm fine. Go look after the girl."

I went up to the sobbing woman. She tried to push me off. "Heather, my name is Special Agent Megan Quinn. We're here to take you home."

Heather continued to sob.

"It's alright, it's alright. I hear Sandy misses you, she can't wait for you to come home." I assured.

She continued sobbing, but stopped pushing me away.

==BAP==

The sun rose.

The sky was a light gray, with the rain Seattle seemed to have as a fixture.

Gideon sent off Heather in the ambulance. He gave a brief nod to myself, then Derek and Hotch. He made his way to look at the boat.

"So what kind of report do they want on him?" Derek asked Hotch.

"I suppose whether he's fit to be a field agent." Hotch answered. He grinned, having a small laugh. "You know, Haley and I were looking at a baby names book. Guess what Gideon means in hebrew."

"Mighty warrior. Appropriate." Reid commented, walking by.

The three of us smiled at Reid.

"So what are you gonna tell them?" Derek asked.

"What would you say?" Hotch asked.

"Well I saw him out there. I think he's the best chance we have against men like Vogel." I stated.

"Gideon saved her life. That's good enough for me." Derek agreed.

==BAP==

Derek fell asleep. Reid was halfway there, zoning in and out on the couch.

I was in one of the chairs in the back, by the mini kitchen. There was a warm mug of cocoa in my hands; coffee had never agreed with me.

My finished report sat in my lap. Once I was in the office, I'd give it to Hotch. Of course I had _way_ more paperwork to do at my apartment.

A lot of my plans would have to be changed, now that I had seemingly taken Elle Greenaway's place. How far would it go? How far _could_ it go? Were there things I planned to do, and no longer could? I knew there were things I _had_ to do now, like the hostage situation on the train.

There was too much for speculation. I'd brought a DVD of season one, in case of an emergency. ' _Looks like I'm rewatching it over the weekend. Lucky freaking me.'_

"Hey." Hotch's voice broke me out of my deep thoughts.

"You and Haley pick the baby's name yet?" Gideon asked.

"It's funny... Haley liked the name Charles, but, you know... all I could think of..." Hotch dragged off.

"Manson." Gideon chuckled.

"Then there was Henry." Hotch went on.

"Lee Lucas." Gideon supplied.

"Uh... Jeffrey."

"Dahmer."

"There's just too many of them." Hotch sighed.

"Kind of hard to feel good about catching one when you know there are fifty more still out there." Gideon stayed. Hotch sighed. I listened in, without making it look like I _was_ listening in. "How's your report going?"

Hotch tried to hide his smile.

"Didn't think you could hide that from an old profiler, now, did ya?"

"You know, you saved that girl today. You can feel good about that." The fellow agent stated.

"It is good. It's a good thing." The senior profiler let himself smile.

Hotch walked past my seat.

"Your talk of names got me thinking. ' _Jack'_ means ' _God is gracious'_." I hinted, tapping my pen on my report.

Hotch paused, expression thoughtful. "Thanks, Agent Quinn."

 **==BAP==**

 **AN: Okay this took way to long to update. So sorry everybody! I've been working on all the other stories I publish, and the ones I don't. My summer was jam packed with stuff, then I went to a new college.**

 **And the idea of Megan taking place of Elle was spur of the moment. As I wrote, Megan just took over Elle's lines and it seemed the most natural. Once I made the decision, this chapter came out a lot faster. Sorry if some of you wanted to see her. She just wasn't fitting in.**

 **Thanks to Shadowknight 74, kotono3, Moored Mermaid, DawnoftheShadows, and silly60 for favoriting**

 **Thanks to Hopewords, Shadowknight74, WorldJumper0123, , kotono3, hillybutt, Scribleyellow, Juplin, Irrelevant86, and DawnoftheShadows following**


	4. Compulsion

Gideon was retelling the Footpath Killer case to the visiting students.

The students had come to help unpack Gideon's supplies from the academy. It hadn't taken long to unpack. There was just a few minor case files and his photographs. These students were happy to help, especially because Gideon always explained the story behind each photograph.

Not gonna lie, I was listening in from the hallway. Some of these stories were really impressive. A lot of them stories had Rossi guest starring. Gideon made the other profiler sound like a modern _Sherlock Holmes_.

Still. As they finished the unpacking, the students talked him to the _big_ one.

"Weren't you a little worried he might just shoot you?" One of them asked, enraptured in Gideon's story.

"I was a lot worried." Gideon admitted.

"But...how did you find him?" Another student wondered.

"I was just stopping for gas. I walked into that store and saw pieces of a profile that I had given Virginia PD almost a year ago." Gideon revealed. He was toying with a broken off piece of a Rubik's Cube. "Truck in disrepair, disheveled young man, severe stutter. James Reese once said ' _there are certain clues at a crime scene which by their very nature do not lend themselves at being collected or examined'_. How does one collect love, rage, hatred, fear? These are things that we're trained to look for."

"So anyone else would have just seen a guy who stutters, but you saw the footpath killer." The female student summarized.

"Right. But sometimes these guys are still found by just dumb luck. Berkowitz was caught because of a parking ticket." Gideon explained.

There was a small silence after. ' _Right. I'm...Elle now. Or, I've taken Elle's role. Her lines are_ my _lines_.'

"Except the officer who arrested him wasn't staring down a shotgun like you were." I spoke up for the first time.

The students whirled around to me in surprise. I put on a warm smile for their sakes. This seemed to steady their nerves.

Gideon smiles warmly, honestly. "This is true." He looked to the students. "This is also a good time to stop."

The students got their few belongings together. I stepped to the side of the door, letting them all out. Once they were cleared I peeked inside.

"Okay, I'm curious." I admitted, sitting across from Gideon. "Why'd he stutter?" I asked.

"You're on your way to becoming part of the Behavior Analysis team now, Megan. You tell me." Gideon challenged.

' _Damn, he dropped a badass line. I like it.'_

After a brief pause for that thought, I followed behind Gideon into the bullpen.

He quickly moved some chess pieces beside Reid's desk. "Check. Checkmate three moves." He remarked to Reid. Then he went off.

The super genius gaped at the board. "What..."

"You had him on the ropes, Reid." I assured, leaning against the railing above. And they both knew my assurance was a lie.

Derek folded up his newspaper. "You know you'll beat him when you start learning."

"Learning what?" Reid asked in exasperation.

"To think outside the box." Derek supplied.

I went over to my desk. There still wasn't a lot of personal touches to it yet. The most was a bright red pen to the side of my keyboard.

"Question for you." I called out to Derek.

"Shoot."

"The footpath killer, do you know why he stuttered?" I asked.

"Come on, Megan, we've all asked him, and he won't say." Derek admitted. "He wants us to figure it out."

"So is it like some training exercise?" I asked. JJ walked by at that moment, a beeline for Hotch's office. "Or is it just...him being him?"

Derek snorted. "Not telling."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Fine. I can take a challenge."

' _My whole life is a challenge. What's one more?'_

"BAU team, can you meet me in the conference room, please?" Hotch ordered. "I need to show you something.

We followed after him.

==BAP==

The Team had gathered in the conference room.

 _And I was losing. My. Mind._

Wasn't this everyone's dream? To be surrounded by their favorite characters? This was bound to be boring after awhile, I'm going to enjoy it while I can. I'm twenty-five, I'm allowed some fun.

"This is from the Phoenix office, Bradshaw College in Tempe, six fires in seven months." Hotch began.

I started leafing through the case file.

"Who recorded it?" Gideon asked.

"A student with a digital camcorder." JJ picked up the remote. "He was watching a fire in the building across from their dorm. The other person you'll see is his roommate, twenty year old Matthew Rowland."

The video played. I gave it my full attention.

" _This is crazy. Hey, Mac, get over here. You gotta see this. The building's on fire."_

" _Bro, you getting this?"_

"Is that the kid?" Gideon asked.

"Yeah, that's him." Hotch replied.

" _Relax, man. There's always fires during rush week. Yeah, but that's pretty big."_

" _What building is that?_

" _Dude, over here. Check this out."_

" _What is it?"_

" _I don't know, but it's coming underneath the door."_

" _Is someone in the hallway?"_

" _Hey, someone's trying to get in._

" _Hey, man, you should get away from there."_

" _Oh, my god! It smells like gas."_

Then, Matthew was lit on fire. I winced as I had noticed the triple fires, doing so again at the triple door knob turn. When Matthew was on fire I went back to the case file.

" _Oh, god! God! Oh, my god! Oh, my god! Put me out! Oh, my god! Oh, god! Help!"_

==BAP==

Not much long after, we were mid flight. Reid was playing chess in his seat. Derek was working on a spreadsheet for the dates. Gideon was reading the casefile in his hands. Hotch was doing the same.

I was lying on the couch, working on my Plan for the day. The Plan I'd written ages ago had to be changed when Elle wasn't around anymore. There was _so much_ that was going to be changed. I had to keep a tight focus, or else I'll be at risk for messing up _everything_.

To be honest, overthinking it was a good stress relief. The overthinking lead me to coming up with solutions. Coming up with solutions made me feel relaxed for when they'd come up.

"There are two common stressors for a serial arsonist." Reid mused.

"Loss of job, loss of love." I replied, offhandedly.

"When was the first fire set?" Derek asked

"March, then another in May, the third was September, and two weeks after _that_ there were these three." I reported, not even glancing at the report. Most of these cases I had memorized before doing my math homework back Home.

"He's speeding up. Fire's are closer together." Gideon noted.

"Hey, Reid, you got a statistic on arsonists?" Derek asked over his shoulder.

"Eighty-two percent are white males between seventeen and twenty-seven. Female arsonists are far less likely, their motive typically being revenge." Reid lifted off.

"Sounds like our boy's a student." Derek reasoned.

"Don't be so sure. You rely too much on precedent, you never allow for the unexpected." Gideon advised. "If he went from setting one fire to three in two weeks' time..."

"Rapid escalation." I recalled from my classes, hesitating to blush when I realized I took Hotch's line again. ' _Focus, Quinn,_ focus _!'_

"He's gone from the power to damage a building to something far more satisfying. The power over life and death." Gideon explained. "Who we talking to first?"

"Dean of students, Ellen Turner." Hotch answered.

I was relieved I hadn't stolen _that_ line. It would've been awkward.

==BAP==

We arrived at the college. Gideon ran out of the car like it was on fire, speaking to us in rapidfire.

"No badges. I don't want to satisfy the UNSUB's need for attention by letting him know he got the FBI here. Try not to look official." He glanced at us, standing at the top of the stairs. "Try to look _less_ official."

We all paused, looking at each other. I immediately took off my jacket. Holding it in my elbow, I followed after Gideon.

Barely ten minutes later, the team was walking with Dean Turner and Fire Inspector Zhang.

"Obviously, I'd rather be meeting you under different circumstances." Dean Turner admitted as we rushed down a walkway. "This is Fire Inspector Zhang."

The man continued walking, not waiting for any further introduction. "This morning the chemistry department reported several bottles of highly flammable chemicals missing."

Gideon and Hotch opened the doors for us. "I'm prepared to evacuate this campus." Dean Turner nodded at the two superior agents. "Thank you."

"That brings with it its own problems." Hotch warned.

"You might evacuate the arsonist as well." Gideon explained.

"Then the case goes unsolved, the campus is reopened, but the fires start up again." I continued.

"Hotch, Gideon, hold on a second. You said the chemicals were missing today." Derek asked them. Zhang nodded. Derek turned to us in concern. "It says here that one of the previous fires was set with diesel fuel that disappeared from the grounds keeping facility. How long after it disappeared was the fire set?"

"One day." Dean Turner voiced.

Gideon and Hotch walked away from the group.

"If he's holding to a pattern." Gideon reasoned.

"Who's to say the next fire won't be today?" Hotch added.

After a moment, the rest of us followed after them.

==BAP==

When Hotch and Reid came back from the first crime scene, I was with Zhang.

"He turned the water off just before the fire. The last three were set with these. Two devices, simultaneous ignition." Zhang reported. He showed me the devices used for the kindling.

"There was no device used on Matthew Rowland." Gideon remarked. "UNSUB set that one manually?"

"He wanted to be there to enjoy the kid's death." Derek answered.

"Not necessarily." Hotch argued.

"Well, if the target was Matthew Rowland, then why set the other two fires?" I asked.

"The motives for arson are relatively simple. There's vandalism, crime concealment, political statement, profit-" Reid listed.

"And revenge." Hotch finished.

"We interviewed Matthew Rowland's roommate. He said Matthew was very well-liked. No reason for revenge." Zhang countered.

"What about vandalism?" Dean Turner asked.

"No. The fires are too sophisticated, and if he's trying to make a political statement, he's not being too clear about it." I explained.

"There's an underlying strategy in this case." Gideon spoke up. "Matthew, firefighters, injured victims. To the unsub, they're not people. They're..."

"They're objects." Hotch stated.

Gideon shook his head. "More like, Uh..."

"Chess pieces." Reid stated.

The elder Profiler stared up at Reid, as if surprised by the analysis. "Exactly."

==BAP==

Not long after, Derek went off to the building for his own investigations. Reid and I were back in the office. I'd made myself some hot chocolate, and Reid a cup of coffee flavored sugar.

"The timer sets the road flare, which then lights the chemical mixture inside the canister. Simple." I explained to Reid, boasting at what knowledge I had on this subject.

"Yet sophisticated in its simplicity." Reid agreed. "I mean, there's a meticulous construction to it."

' _You know those conversations you have with friends, that makes you wonder if you're both murderers? This was one of those conversations.'_

Pulling my mind out from _that_ , I went back to the lines from the show. It'd be pointless to focus on my own inner psychopath. "Chemical accelerant probably means chemistry student."

"Could also mean chemistry professor." Reid countered.

"Nope. I say student. You need self-confidence to lecture in front of a classroom full of thirty college kids." I took a long gulp of my hog chocolate. "Arsonists are socially incompetent. They don't go on dates. They don't go to parties. They don't feel comfortable in front of groups."

Reid looked...uncomfortable by my analysis.

It took me a second to realize why. "And, ya know, not that _we_ 're like that. At all. You _or_ me. We wouldn't...we wouldn't _do that_. We're not total psychopaths." I realized I was babbling, clapping my lips shut.

The moment could've ended there, with my complete humiliation. Thank God that Reid gave an assuringly sweet smile. "Course." Then went back to his coffee.

That smile left me blushing until the next fire.

==BAP==

When the next fire started, I slapped myself in the face for forgetting. I ran to the building.

' _You shouldn't feel bad.'_ A voice that didn't feel like my conscious spoke up. ' _Elle wasn't near that burning building. You didn't need to be there.'_

 _A man died._

' _You didn't.'_

 _That doesn't make it right._

' _Doesn't make it wrong either.'_

When I arrived, Gideon and Derek had just come off the stairs. I stared at their soot covered shirts, the lost look on Gideon's face, feeling my own contort to match.

Hotchner came up to my side. He pushed a camera in my hand. "He might be here watching."

"Yeah." I agreed, numbly.

"Take pictures- as many as you can." Hotch ordered. He went off to go help the others.

I nodded, holding up my camera. As I took the pictures of the crowd, I searched for Clara. Although I knew it was pointless. She was too clinical in her murders to stick around.

We were still going to stop her. Even if I had to be the one to do it.

==BAP==

That night, long after the sun had set, I walked into Dean Turner's office. Gideon had returned from the hospital straight to her office. According to Derek, Gideon had a clean bill of physical health.

The door was open. I could hear them talking about Professor Wallace. My heart ached in sorrow at his loss.

' _Come on, you're ginger. You're supposed to be an uncaring soulless she demon!'_

 _That was a human life. Shut up._

' _One of these days, you'll be glad for our talks.'_

"Gideon, we've got police and security interviewing everyone in that building." I reported.

The senior profiler nodded at me. He looked over to Dean Turner. "How long will it take to finish evacuating the campus?"

"This is a college of ten thousand students and faculty." Dean Turner reminded him.

I winced. "Sir, there's another problem with evacuating."

"You mean, we might accelerate the unsub's timeline." Gideon voiced my thoughts. It relaxed me that he said that. He rose up from Dean Turner's couch. "Let's round everybody up."

The two of us walked out, fast. We walked past Jeremy. I glanced back at the kid, wondering how much of his solution came from him and how much came from Clara.

==BAP==

"We've been at this all night, and we've got nothin'." Derek remarked. He dropped the photos in his hand on the table.

No one disagreed.

"Look at these expressions. We got fear, a touch of horror, even a little bit of panic. Where's the guy gettin' off?" Derek asked.

"When asked about his motives, Peter Dinsdale said, 'I am devoted to fire. Fire is my master'." Reid reported.

"Okay, so who was our boy's master? Ten thousand plus students...and one has a serious fascination with fire." Derek thought out loud.

Gideon and Hotch had nothing to add. Their expressions were zoned out, minds hundreds of miles away as they thought of the profile.

"For some reason, our unsub isn't fitting the usual profile of a serial arsonist." I reported, hoping I was sticking with the script. I didn't want to know what would happen if I changed too much. "So far, they're meeting certain requirements. Fire starting is one-third of the homicidal triad. Though, it's too soon to tell if s- _they_ have the other two: bedwetting and cruelty to animals."

"Absent or abusive father, trouble with the opposite sex, chronic low self-esteem- MO would be dynamic." Gideon picked up where I left off. "Evolvings, fire setting escalates, they thrive on panic, fear. It's just the standard profile of a serial arsonist."

"Based on hundreds of interviews." Reid added.

"Based on precedent." Derek added too.

"Everything the unsub should be, according to research." I finished.

The five of us sat in silence for a long pause.

"We're off the mark." Hotch voiced what we all were thinking.

"Because of the two missing elements." Gideon asked.

"Sex and power- the two motives that drive a serial arsonist." Derek answered.

"And without 'em, we do not have a profile." Gideon stated, with a tone of finality.

Oh, how I wanted to tell them why.

==BAP==

After our failed brainstorming sessions, Dean Turner informed us of the science department kids' theory.

Hotch, Reid, and myself went to see if it had any basis. Or, rather, to see what facts it would give to the profile.

Reid was looking at the science equipment. My attention was drawn to the other bits of lab tech. My engineer heart was bursting in my chest at it all. My college didn't have nearly as much cool stuff...not until I built it anyway. It's hard to use a microscope made of broken glass and duct tape.

Hotch came up by Reid's side. I was entranced by one of the machines.

"Reid. Since you're more their age, why don't you do the talking?" Hotch informed.

Reid's head shot up much like a startled meerkat. I thought it was cute. He glanced nervously over to the other kids, looking over to the science club. He took along a lightbulb, one that Zhang had brought to help the kids explain.

"Ahem. Hi- hi, guys. Uh, my name's, uh, Dr. Spencer Reid." He introduced himself. I winced in sympathy for him. "I'm a, uh, agent with the- the BAU, the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI, which, um, it used to be called the B _S_ U, the Behavioral Science Unit, but not anymore." Reid rambled.

I winced, running my hand along the microscope. My eyes couldn't help going to Clara, though. She sat in her chair, looking as though she'd never be caught.

She must've felt my eyes. I looked away before she could turn her head.

"They changed it to the BAU. Um, it's part of the NCAVC, the National Center for the Analysis of Violent Crime which is also part of this thing called the CIRG, the Critical Incident Response Group, and-" Reid rambled on.

Oh now I had to save him. I moved up to his side.

"And that's Reid way of saying we'd love for your help." I interrupted.

Jeremy walked up. He motioned to the light bulb Reid was holding. "May I, please?"

Reid gave it to him.

"Thank you." Jeremy held it up for us to observe. "See this? Drill a hole in the side, fill it with gasoline or whatever's good and flammable. Turn the light on. Boom." He finished with a confident voice. "That is what went down, didn't it?"

"The stuff's all over the net." Clara jumped in. It took a lot in me not to tense when she spoke. "Wanna know how to make a molotov cocktail that sets itself on fire? Potassium, sulfur...and normal sugar. Sugar- sugar, which is-"

"Not exactly plutonium." Jeremy interrupted her. "You could get this stuff anywhere."

"Sugar from the supermarket." Clara spat out, as if the words had the control rather than her. She was turning her ring on her finger as well.

It caught Hotch's attention. "But you don't need to be a chem major to know that." Hotch voiced, observing Clara from the corner of his eye.

"Do you think it's a chem student?" Zhang asked Jeremy.

"You wanna know what I think? I think-" He held the lightbulb up to his head. ' _Not sure if I should laugh, or smack him for the joke'_ He pushed the lightbulb against Reid's chest. "-it would be a good time to take the semester off."

As soon as it was done, my fellow agents left for the elevator. Jeremy went along with us. Zhang stayed with the girls to walk them to their dorms.

It answered my question of where he'd been in the elevator scene.

Hotch reached for a button on the elevator.

"Hold on." Jeremy stuck in his key. He turned it, then the elevator began moving. "You need a key to get it movin' after ten pm." He informed us.

"So what are you still doin' here?" Hotch asked.

"I can't leave. We got projects." Jeremy explained. He looked at the three of us, skeptical. "You know hot to solve the three body problem?"

"Computing the mutual gravitational interaction between the earth, sun and moon." I reported. Hotch and Jeremy looked at me in surprise. I let myself blush.

Back when I was in college, I was in a science club. One of the other kids was working on this problem around our second year. He came to me for venting sessions when the problem just didn't make sense.

"An...old friend of mine tried it. Think he's still going at it." I smiled reassuringly at Jeremy. "You'll do great on it, though. You all really smart kids."

Then Jeremy grinned, and I knew it was a real small that time.

==BAP==

' _Charown. I do this for Charown.'_

It was morning now. Penelope had given us the sound byte of the call. The five of us were back in our conference room, ready to work after a night's rest.

"Play it again." Gideon asked Derek.

"The call came from the office right next to Wallace's five minutes before the fire was started." Derek reported.

Gideon didn't care for that, not right now. "Play it again." Gideon asked.

Derek did so.

' _Charown. I do this for Charown.'_

"Again, louder." Gideon instructed.

That time, Derek just turned the speaker around so it was facing Gideon. He moved it closer to the profiler as well.

' _Charown. I do this for Charown.'_

"What is it?" Hotch asked, impatient.

I was too. After so many times hearing it on TV, and another three right now? This was getting repetitive.

Gideon shook his head, unsure. "I'm not sure. Somethin' about it."

"Is this tape clean?" Hotch asked Penelope

" _I can put it through some audio filters."_ Penelope stated.

"Look, we need as close to the real voice as you can get, and anything that might be in the background. Can you do it?" Derek asked.

" _Ok, you know how on Star Trek when Captain Kirk asks McCoy to do something totally impossible, and McCoy says,_ 'damn it, Jim, I'm a doctor, not a miracle worker?'" Penelope explained.

"Hey, what are you tellin' me, not to expect a miracle?" Derek teased.

I smiled at the two of them, hiding it behind my hand.

" _No, I'm saying I'm not a doctor."_ Penelope teased back.

"That's my girl." Derek praised. She hung up.

"We need to compile a list of all the women on campus with the first name Karen." Hotch decided.

"...it's not ' _Karen'."_ I spoke loud enough to be heard. The words flew out of my mouth, because they _had_ to be spoken. I couldn't let them be this _wrong_.

The other Profilers paused. If I didn't know better, I'd say the actors were reacting to my getting the line wrong. But I did know better. There was no real reason for them to react like this, except dramatic tension.

The pressure got to me. I gulped down my nerves, fidgeting with my hands. "I did a lot of theology/mythology classes in my first year of college. They're saying they did it for Charown. Charown is..." I let the sentence drag on. My anxiety got the better of me.

"It's God's word in anger." Gideon finished. He seemed to like my train of thought. I breathed a little easier knowing that.

"Yeah." Reid and I agreed.

"The motive is now religious?" Derek asked.

"Well, you know, in a lot of religions, God is related to fire." Reid added.

"Well, brahman is fire in hinduism, and the Jews see God as a pillar of fire, and Christians worship God as a consuming fire." Hotch toyed with the idea.

Still, in my mind I wanted to correct it. I'd already done too much with my Charown line. Why if my next spoiler ruined something? "Okay, so we could start looking for a theology major. Maybe he's punishing the other students for their sins. What-what's the most sinful place on campus?"

"Come on, Megan. When I was in college, that was everywhere." Derek chided me.

I felt better for it. Letting out a relieved breath, I went back to the lines I remembered best. "Yeah but can we...pick the big ones?"

"A fraternity?" Hotch tried.

"What about the idea of baptism by fire?" Derek spit-balled. "Aren't we all supposed to be tested through fire in Revelations?"

"Well technically _yeah,_ but...no." I shook my head. Oh, where had that confidence earlier gone?

"Look, it's good, it's good, but let's please do not jump to conclusions. Religion might be a part of it, but it's not necessarily the prime compulsion." Gideon reminded us.

"Gideon, rush to conclusions, jump to conclusions. Who cares?" Derek asked. "We're running out of time."

But behind us, I heard Reid mutter about compulsions.

You know, it actually got a bit easier to breath.

 _Who knows, we might actually stop Clara before she gets to the science students._

' _You and I both know there's not a chance of that happening.'_

==BAP==

I hate when I'm right.

Even with the religious aspect of the profile, they couldn't put it together. Dean Turner had announced the evacuation. The other profilers left the room to clear their heads. They wandered around campus.

I went to our hotel room.

Then I raged.

 _(Not really a rage. I just threw a lot of pillows and screamed into them. Picture of mental health, I am.)_

When I'd finished yelling, I went over my own notes from this episode. Was there anything else I could do? Would I have to deliver the idea to Reid on an aged scroll? It was looking like it!

There came a point, when the morning changed to afternoon, that Hotch called me back to campus. The guys were going to regroup in the conference room. He was bringing me back if I had something to offer.

I threw my pillow again.

Begrudgingly, I went back to the conference room. Derek had apparently declined, going around campus with Zhang for safety checks. While the other two looked over crime scene photos, I mindlessly stared at the whiteboard.

Reid ran in twenty minutes later, profile ready.

"I know why the profiles never fit." He announced.

 _Now_ we were getting somewhere.

"You were right to tell Morgan not to rely on precedent." Reid told Gideon. "The fires thus far have been completely task oriented."

"So once they're set, the unsub is done?" Hotch asked.

"Exactly. The unsub is not a classical serial arsonist. He's someone who uses fire because of a completely different disorder." Reid explained.

"Which is?" Gideon prompted.

"An extreme manifestation of OCD, obsessive compulsive disorder." Reid answered. "He does everything in three's, and if I'm right, he'll have to kill again."

After some technical difficulties, Reid pulled up the footage from Matthew Rolland murder.

"There's a form of OCD called scrupulosity." Reid began.

"Religious obsession and compulsion." I answered, eager to end this.

Reid nodded. "An obsessive fear of committing sin, which creates so much anxiety that he's compelled to do something to ease that anxiety."

"Like setting fires." Hotch reasoned.

"Where's the behavioral evidence?" Gideon asked, not following Reid's line of thought.

"Right here. All right." Reid player the footage. It showed the turning doorknob. "Remember the night of the three fires? We saw the doorknob turning against the lock. But he's not trying to get in. He's compelled to turn the doorknob three times."

"Well, what about the fires? The first ones were single fires. If the unsub was OCD, shouldn't they have all been in three's?" Gideon asked, rubbing his hand over his eyes. It was fair. We were all exhausted.

"They were in three's. A trinity of three's." Reid assured. "The first fire occurred on March 3rd."

"Three o'clock pm, third day, third month." Gideon recalled. Now he was getting it.

"It's that convergence of three's that causes the overwhelming anxiety. Obsessive compulsives ease the anxiety by performing the compulsion." Reid explained.

"And Professor Wallace?" I asked.

"Office number three." Reid answered. "I checked for more patterns of three's. His class was on Tuesdays."

"Third day of the week." I stated.

"Matthew Rowland was in that class. It was his third class of the day. If we looked into each of the fires we'd find a lot of patterns having to do with three's because our minds are incredibly adept at seeking out patterns." Reid was actually getting worked up in his own hype. ' _Boy, was he cute doing it'_ "But to the unsub, once that pattern hits, bam- he sets a fire."

Hotch rose up from his chair. Because of me taking his lines, he'd been quiet.

"But if the target was always people, why did no one die in the first few fires?" Gideon asked.

And _there_ it goes again. Reid's elation dropped. "They were failures. Up until Matthew Rowland."

Gideon looked over to Hotch. "What is it?" Gideon asked him.

"I think I know who it might be. And it's not a he. It's a she." Hotch stated.

He told Gideon and Reid. I was already dialing Dean Turner. When she answered, I let Gideon explain.

" _Clara Hayes. A chemistry student. I'll get you her records now."_ Dean Turner assured.

"First get campus security out and find her. She could set her next fire within hours." Gideon warned.

==BAP==

They sent me out with Derek to Clara's apartment.

We got one of the LEO's to pop open Clara's door. The light of the room cast out into the hallway.

If it wasn't so morbid and I'll timed, I'd say we descended into hell.

The walls were completely covered in newspaper clippings, drawings of the occult, and printouts of the occult.

"No one in here." A LEO reported as Derek and I walked in.

"Oh, you gotta be kidding me." Derek remarked as he looked around the walls. "OCD? I'm thinking more like _OMG_."

I snorted. "No arguments here." While I explored the room, a Bible verse caught my eye. "' _A fire is kindled in my anger, and shall burn into the lowest hell.' Deuteronomy._ " I read off one of the papers.

"' _And again the fire of heaven came down and killed them all.'_ " Derek read.

"' _I do this for Charown.'_ That's Charown." I pointed at the picture beside it. "That's the Greek mythological ferryman of the dead."

"It's also the name of Pluto's only moon." Derek stated. "Paradise lost. ' _Moloch, horrid king, besmeared with blood of human sacrifice and parents' tears.'"_

I called Reid so he could explain.

" _Moloch was the demon sun God of the Canaanites. In order to keep from incurring his wrath, the people would sacrifice their children to him by burning them alive."_ Reid reported.

"Reid you're a godsend." I told him. He didn't reply but I knew he was flustered.

" _Sixteen year old survives inferno. The mother, Ellen Hayes, called it a miracle._ 'My daughter was tested by God. He tested my child and she came through blessed.'" Hotch reported. " _Look at the house number."_

" _Three hundred-thirty-three."_ Gideon stated.

As I walked around the room, I realized I was following my own OCD traits. They were _weird_. If I saw a line on the floor, I had to cross it with my left foot. If I missed it then I had to double cross the next one.

"Hey Derek, you know what ' _magical thinking is'_?" I asked, staring down at my right foot. It went on a line. It was annoying when my foot did that.

"Like, a superstition that controls him." Derek answered.

"' _Step on a crack, break your mother's back'_." I recited. While I recited, I slid my foot back. "Or, ' _put your best foot forward'_." When it was safe I double crossed the line with my left foot.

Thankfully Derek didn't see it. "Except she actually believes it."

When my foot came back, I let out a sigh of relief. "God tested her with fire." I explained, only half paying attention to my surroundings now. "And now, when three three's show up around another person-"

"God tells her to test them." Derek stated. He lifted up a water bottle that reeked of lighter fluid.

A moment later, Hotch called Derek on the phone. I was walking to Clara's closet behind the beaded curtain.

"Find the next bunch of three's? Hey, Hotch... we're lookin', man. I don't think she would have left behind a day planner that says 'set next fire here' written in it." Derek argued into the phone.

I checked behind the beaded curtain.

"I under- wait till you see this place." Derek went on.

"Derek." I called back to him.

The Profiler pulled away from his phone. He came up to my side. His eyes widened when he understood what he was looking at.

"You gotta tell Hotch." I reminded him.

He nodded. He pulled his phone back to his ear. "Hotch, there must be thirty homemade bombs in here." Derek informed. There was a pause as he listened to our team leader.

After a minute, he closed his phone. He turned to the LEO's.

"Seal the building. Evacuate the building." Derek ordered. The LEO's nodded. Derek turned to me. "We have to find her. Now."

"Back to campus, then." I backed away from the curtain, letting the beads fall back.

==BAP==

The fire alarms went off. All across campus. A part of me was impressed with Clara for thinking that far ahead.

The students were being evacuated from their buildings. They were looking at nearby buildings for the nonexistent fire.

I turned to a nearby LEO. "You check the science building?"

"All the corridors and stairwells are clear. The closets are all empty. No elevators are in service." He reported.

I nodded. "Good. You keep these kids in line."

He left to follow those orders.

I was checking another dorm building. There had been no sign of Clara (because Gideon called to have me check a different building).

Derek called me after my half-hearted search. " _It's clear up here. Anything?"_

"Nothing. No girl, no smoke, no fire." I informed. "I'm going to check the science building."

" _Megan they cleared it already,"_ Derek pointed out.

"I know...I've just got this bad feeling." I hung up before Derek could talk me out of it.

Then I made my way towards the science building.

It was a longer run than I'd thought. There was barely enough time to text Derek that I heard screams in the science building before bursting inside.

Once inside I ran to the third floor. I could hear her classmates screams as I opened the stairwell door. They weren't of pain, so there was time.

I ran down the half built halls. The smell of lighter fluid was heavy. Turning a final corner I saw Clara putting away the empty bottles of lighter fluid.

"Hello Clara." I greeted, calmly approaching her.

The chemistry student tensed up. She stared at me with cautious eyes. The kids in the elevator were screaming for help. "I have to do this." She pulled out a lighter from her pocket.

"Yeah, you do." I agreed. Clara let out a breath. "But not to them."

Clara winced. She fidgeted with the lighter. "God chose me to be tested, and now he's chosen them. If I don't do this, something terrible will happen."

"But you can't kill _them_. There aren't enough three's." I pointed out. Clara froze. While I spoke, I made slow steps towards her. "There were four people on your team. They're technically on the second floor right now. You need three's. All I'm seeing are irregularities."

The chemistry student wheezed. She fell to her knees, rocking back and forth. "I-I _have_ to."

"Resist." I ordered.

"I _can't_." Clara whimpered. She was rocking faster.

Her classmates continued to beg.

"They must be tested. God's wrath..." Clara's words dragged off in fear.

"Have you thought about it like this? You told us it was a chemistry student." I reasoned. "You left the message about Charown. You want to stop."

I was close now. Not close enough to stop her, unless I jumped.

"Father, son..." Clara prayed. I took another step forward. She was lost to her compulsions. "Holy ghost."

I jumped.

The lighter was knocked out of her hands. It rolled to the side, away from the elevator.

"God chose them." Clara screamed at me. She grabbed my arms. We rolled around. It ended with her on top.

 _*Bang*_

Clara screamed at the bullet wound in her leg. I gasped as she rolled off my body, clutching her bloody leg. I turned to see Hotch and Gideon standing there.

You know, I'd never been more relieved to see them.

==BAP==

Clara had been taken in for surgery. They said she would be okay. The mental health facility she would be going to would have accommodations as she recovered.

The chemistry kids had been let out of the elevator by campus security. One of the girls hugged me (which made my clothes smell like lighter fluid) when she was let out. I wasn't even mad about the smell. It felt good to know I had helped.

Gideon and Hotch were miffed at first. I told them that I thought Clara would have gone to the science building (as her group was doing the three-body-problem) and that Jeremy was probably working on the project. I had to deny knowing that there would be three kids. I told my team leaders I'd heard screaming, texted Derek, and ran off to diffuse the situation. Gideon and Hotch understood then.

Now we were getting back on the plane. I threw my bags beside my seat. Gideon came on The plane behind me.

"You know, I figured it out. The stutter." I informed me.

Gideon sat across from me. "You know why the footpath killer stuttered?"

"You were just trying to stall him." I reasoned. "You said, ' _I know why you stutter'_ because you were buying time. You were stalling. But you don't really know why he stuttered."

"I don't?" Gideon asked, putting on a confused expression.

At seeing it in real life, I snorted. "No one does."

"There are some theories about a neurological basis." Gideon pointed out.

"The keyword being ' _theories'_." I countered. "Are you ever going to tell us what really happened in the convenience store?"

"I'll tell you what I do know about a stutter. I know how to provoke one." Gideon stated, cryptically.

It made snort either way.

So I leaned back in my seat, curling up against the cushion. Then I slept because _dear god_ , it's been ages since I really slept.

 **==BAP==**

 **AN: Sorry this was forever. I'm working five jobs at the moment, so freetime for writing has been sparse. I've gotten a lot done this week so** _ **yay**_ **!**

 **For info on my updates, go to my tumblr blog: AuthorA97-writing-updates. It's where I add info about when I'll update, how updates are coming along (or** _ **not**_ **coming along).**

 **Thanks to silentmayham, basketball4444, shazzygirl, yukicarr, Crossgomer, Jovie Black, YamiyoSenju, and Wulf47, for favoriting**

 **Thanks to Janootie, Queen of Supernatural Lovers, shazzygirl, yukicarr, Wingdings13, Crossgomer, arapyanime, MarieReeds, and YamiyoSenju, for following**


	5. Emergency Contact

Yes it had been an exciting week. Nearly dying at the hands of a religious OCD fanatic tends to make you feel a little...bouncy.

I'd gone home as soon as I could. JJ had said there wasn't a new case yet, so we had time to relax before the next case.

Settling down on my couch, I got ready for a night of Planning. Tonight would be another re-watch of ' _Won't Get Fooled Again'_ , possibly watching it four times before going to bed. My coffee table was already set-up with my _Criminal Minds_ labelled notebook, some blueberries in a bowl, and every colorful pen I owned (yes I color coded my notes, shut up). There was a blanket to pull up over my legs (I kept my apartment cold, sue me). Everything was perfect.

Before the phone rang.

Now, I was half expecting it. With all my earlier talk of ' _before the next case'_ , I thought I'd jinxed it. That not saying it outloud would keep away the jinx. Plus there were a lot of cases over the years that weren't on the show. I'd lost the naivete to believe that just because the show started that the random cases would stop with it.

So I picked up the phone, checking the ID. Mostly out of habit.

' _The Brain (Not Pinky, We Checked)'_

A tired groan came out of my mouth. This was followed by my head falling back on the couch.

Have I mentioned Megan Quinn had a past before I showed up? She's a foster kid, turns out. She grew up bouncing from house to house. Looking back, it wasn't that different from my own life. The longest house Megan had lived in (3 years, for high school) was the Curry house, with their son David Curry, and his best friend who practically lived at the house anyway, Robbie Garcia (not related to Garcia, I checked).

Apparently the three of us became inseparable friends. I don't know how, it's mind boggling. They stayed close up until Megan moved away their senior year. They had a few scattered letters, and emails. It got easier once Megan created a Facebook page. What David and Robbie didn't know was that by that time, it wasn't Megan Quinn anymore it was Morgan Spencer.

They were better off not knowing.

I could barely explain it to myself. How could I explain it to others?

They were cool, too. Funny.

The phone was still ringing. I answered it.

"Hey..." I greeted, tiredly. "What's up?"

" _What's up? WHAT'S UP?!"_ David shouted. I flinched, barely holding back a groan. Good thing I'd already put him on speaker or else he'd have blown off my ear. I put the phone down on the coffee table as he continued to shout. " _That's all you have to say?! What's up?!"_

' _Well I have the entire English language to butcher if you'd prefer.'_

That would've made the shouting worse, so I just said 'yes'.

" _WHAT THE HELL MEGAN?"_

' _Okay. I should've just gone with what I wanted. Wouldn't have made a difference.'_

" _They told me you could've died!"_

"Huh? When?"

" _Yesterday!"_

"I didn't nearly die yes-" It all came to me in a lightbulb moment. "Oh my god."

" _Yeah 'oh my god'!"_ David snapped. " _What were you thinking?!"_

"How did- why did- _how_ did you know about that?" I asked, incredulous.

" _I'm your emergency contact!"_ David reminded me. " _They told me you'd been involved in something that you almost got hurt in, and when I asked the lady she said you nearly died!"_

"Which lady?"

" _Not the issue, Meg!"_

"Holy cow, David! I'm fine. Really fine. I don't even know why you were called, that's how all right I am." I explained to him. Sitting up on the couch, I ran a hand through my hair. "' _Could have'_ died. _Could_ , being the keyword in that-"

" _Quit being smart! That's Robbie's job!"_

I grunted in annoyance. "You called for nothing, David, I'm fine!"

Fed up with this whole circular conversation, I hung up on him.

==BAP==

One hour later, I was elbow deep in ' _Won't Get Fooled Again'_. My notebook had pages of notes.

Everything was okay.

So of course, that's when I had drama in my life again.

My phone buzzed.

' _Pinky Hopefully without The Brain'_

Bracing myself, I answered. "Hey Robbie."

" _Hey Meg. How's things?"_

"Good, good. Watching TV before work calls for another case. Chilling at home." I answered.

" _Great. Great. Hey do you happen to know why's David planning a trip to DC?"_

I huffed out a groaned. "Because I'm going to be murdered by him."

" _What did you do?"_ Robbie laughed. " _Make fun of Mrs C's cooking?"_

"Nearly exploded."

" _...the hell, Meg?"_

"Not you too." I slapped my head. "I was fine! Nothing happened! I _nearly_ exploded, I didn't _actually_ explode! If you two keep making such a big deal about this I'm _going_ to explode!"

" _Uh...you just did?"_

"Don't start!" I snapped. "Just- just _don't_."

" _Alright. Alright!_ " Robbie repeated once I let out a strong growl. " _How'd it happen?"_

I bit my lip. While this wasn't an open case, I'm not sure how much I was allowed to share with them. There was only so many details I was willing to share before I felt too close to telling them the truth of how I really felt at that moment.

"There was an UNSUB. During the investigation, some...clues came together for me to realize the...people that would be targeted next." I explained, carefully. Robbie made the appropriate hums when I paused to think about the wording. "Unfortunately, at that point my team was scattered around the campus searching."

" _Hold on- you went after them alone?"_

"I'm about to hang up on you." I warned him.

" _No, Megan that's serious!"_ Robbie replied, nearly scolding. " _If there's a crazy person blowing people up then you don't go after them alone!"_

"You think I didn't know that?" I snapped. "I called my team, they were too far away. My CO realized it as soon as I did, turns out I was just...closer." Silence on the line. "I wasn't alone, Rob, the others were just...late."

Then, of all things, Robbie snorted. " _Oh yeah. You_ hate _late people._ "

"Don't say it like it's unreasonable! If it's in your power, show up on time!" I defended, feeling both relief and nervous. Relief that Robbie didn't sound as concerned anymore, annoyed at the new topic. "If it's not, then freakin' tell me it's not!"

" _Still haven't let the birthday party thing go, then?"_

I actually don't know about the birthday party thing, as I'm not Megan.

"Not in this lifetime."

Robbie laughed, then sobered. " _Look...ugh I hate doing this. It's usually me and Dave that fight, with you being a mediator. Not you and him."_ He sighed _. "How'd you always get us to stop fighting?"_

I paused, wondering how Megan would have done it.

' _Well...let's just think about my brothers back Home. How would I get them to stop fighting- those rare times they did? I'd make them shut up, tell me what happened, then work out a solution from there. Except...would that work with these two?'_

"I'd get the both of you to be honest with me. Then once I had the facts I'd tell it to you straight how to fix it." I answered, hesitant.

" _Yeah. So...just...do that...I guess."_

Dammit...Robbie had a point. "Wow. Thanks for the inspiring speech, Braveheart."

" _Just talk to David before he buys that ticket."_ Robbie laughed before hanging up.

I groaned. Great- now I had a time limit.

Picking the phone back up, I typed in David's number. My thumb hovered over the call button.

It would be better to call him now...before I started re-watching the episode...I'd forget to call him by then, I'm sure.

' _Maybe...just five minutes?'_

My thumb already hit the button.

I yelled, jumping back against the couch cushion.

' _Oh! I can hang up. It would be okay! He hasn't answered yet.'_

*click*

Dammit.

I hit speakerphone. "David."

" _Megan."_

I bit my lip. "I was a bitch."

He sighed. " _Megan-"_

"No I was. No doubt about it." I interrupted him. "I was in danger, but it's a _dangerous job_ , David. Every week something _else_ is going to happen to me. There's some things I can't control, and we have to live with that."

" _I know that. It's just...you should've called_."

"What?"

"You _should've called. I don't care- ugh. It wasn't you getting hurt that made it awful, it was not hearing about it_ from you _! I thought you'd- that you'd been hurt! Really hurt!"_ David huffed. " _It was...the worst."_

"David..."

" _No, Meg. It's not- it's not you. You're right I should- should get used to your job."_

"You were just worried. I can't get mad at that."

" _But you-"_

"I would've called, David, if I knew how much it meant for you." I explained. "I was just thinking about me."

David was silent.

"You and Robbie still coming up to DC?" I asked, after a pause.

" _...don't know."_

"Think you should." I suggested. "Just...so we could hang-out."

" _Yeah. That sounds good."_ David agreed. " _You could finally show us the town."_

I laughed, feeling light hearted again. "Good. Can you tell Robbie that we're not fighting anymore? I've got...stuff to do here."

" _Sure thing...sure thing."_ David assured. " _This weekend good?"_

?!

 _How am I getting this place cleaned in four days?!_

"Yeah. Sure thing."

' _I hate you, me.'_

" _Great! I'll tell Rob. He'll be excited to see you. Later Meg."_

"Later David." I hung up on him. Five minutes later I got a text from Robbie saying ' _thanks'._

' _They're really gonna hate the train episode.'_ I thought to myself. ' _And the getting stabbed episode. If that even happens.'_

 **==BAP==**

 **AN: Somehow this is my fourth most followed story. Huh. Amazing!**

 **Also, not dead. Just in college and wishing it ;)**

 **Thanks to DarkFireNyx, Kylie Winchester, Jay007, Lady Deebo, Hurricane.'97, zerefdragneelx791, fireman12468, and G. , for favoriting**

 **Thanks to giderasia, DarkFireNyx, Kylie Winchester, howlingblackwolf, Jay007, JularaVon, Lady Deebo, Hurricane.'97, G. , and Rainbowmonkeyss, for following**


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